You're an Idiot, Now Kiss Me
by Procrastinating Penguin
Summary: It's a typical love story... boy meets girl, boy finds girl extremely annoying, girl barely tolerates boy... boy is a phantom thief at night... girl has to live with boy under the same roof... wait, What! //Kaito x Aoko// Important Author's Note.
1. An Apologetic Sort of Meeting

**Chapter One: An Apologetic Sort of Meeting**

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of DC/MK. If I do, Kaito would have a lot more wardrobe malfunctions during his heists. XD_

"I'm sorry, Aoko."

"Uh-huh."

"There's no point in arguing with me, Aoko, my mind's already made up."

"I understand perfectly, Tousan."

"So stop complaining - _what_?"

Nakamori Ginzo looked up from his desk (which, by the way, was quite a difficult task as it was flooded by pile after piles of paper), bewildered. For once his moustached mouth wasn't flying with spittle with outrage or frustration, but poised in a rarely, almost-never-been-seen docile "O". His daughter, almost a carbon image of himself (take or give a few pounds, a few inches in height, the body hair... oh, heck, she inherited only his messy hair) was already standing by the door, dressed and suitcase packed at her feet. There was no anger in her eyes, no confrontational set to her jaws. Ginzo actually felt kind of creeped out by his daughter's calmness. Nakamori Aoko was known for many things, and a meek temper was definitely not one of them.

"What are you waiting for, Tousan? Didn't you say that we were going to meet them first thing in the morning?" the wild-haired girl checked her wrist watch. Her eyes flicked back to meet his own.

Cool as a cucumber.

"Uh - right, of course." Nakamori Ginzo got up from his desk, sweeping one broad hand over the messy surface for his car keys. Oh, dear - it was going to take a while. He purposely averted her eyes, which - incidentally, were burning with a fire that didn't quite match up with the rest of her coolly poised body. "Er, Aoko - you do remember what the plan was, don't you?"

"How could I forget?" A soft giggle. (A _definite_ chill down his back) "You told me yesterday that you need to go to Europe for three months for an ICPO convention. And it would probably be best for me to stay with a friend of yours _whom I've never met before_. And apparently they have a teenage son who would also be sharing the same roof as me." She chuckled. "Oh, Tousan - how could I forget? Transferring to a whole another school and leaving everything behind? I. just. can't. wait,_ Tou-chan_."

His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. The possibility of getting murdered in his own car fleeted across his mind. He cleared his throat. "A-hem, I'm glad you understand, Aoko."

She beamed (Oh, dear _God_, the girl actually smiled...) "Of course I do, Tousan! After years of disappointment I've learned to cope with trauma pretty well." Her hand tightened on the handle of the suitcase. There was a subtly _crack._ "And it's not that bad living with strangers - I mean, with you working late all the time I've practically lived by myself for the past... oh, I don't know - ten years, give or take." She flashed him a big grin.

He smiled back weakly.

---

The car ride didn't take long. Aoko spent the hour gazing longingly at the flitting scenery of her hometown while Ginzo twitching uncomfortably a seat next over, the murderous aura in the car probing every pore and orifice of his body. After what seemed like an eternity of grey blurring past the window, the car wormed its way through a neighbourhood with muted greens and whites.

"'Kuroba'," Aoko read, as the car finally came to a stop in front of an average-looking two-storied house.

"Their son is named Kaito Kuroba. Perhaps you guys could become best friends." Aoko turned and grinned sweetly, wilting the hope in his father's face at once. "I mean... ahem," he cleared his throat. "Well... at least someone to talk to... same school and all, I just thought..." he trailed off lamely. Aoko was already out of the car, dragging her suitcase from the trunk.

They stood before the door together, Ginzo slightly to the front as he pressed the doorbell. Silence. Aoko glanced around her new surroundings. The house had a small yard circling the white walls, somewhat grey with age and pockmarked with mildew. It had a balcony on the second floor, though looking up she couldn't quite make out what was on there - a giant metal cage and a few flowerpots, it appeared. Not very assuring.

There was a sudden rustle behind the door, startling both Nakamoris to attention. The door was pulled open, revealing a kind-faced, middle-aged housewife. She hastily wiped her hands on her apron before offering them a smile. "Ah - sorry, I was preparing lunch in the kitchen and I couldn't hear the bell." She edged closer into the house, granting them a better access into the house. Aoko noticed that there weren't many pairs of shoes - women's sandals, a pair of black dress shoes, and worn runners. Ginzo scratched a hand behind his head awkwardly.

"Sorry to be such a bother, Shiori."

"No, no, not at all." The smile was there, but Aoko could have sworn it was slightly strained. Her eyes flicked to the girl. "So this is your daughter?" Her eyes softened. "Quite a beautiful girl."

"Ah, yes - I don't believe you've met." The gruff inspector clapped the girl (hard) on the back, ushering her a step before him. "Aoko - this is Shiori Kuroba - or Kuroba-san - if you will." He glanced around the house. "Ah - well, I don't suppose Kaito-kun is here now?"

"He's out." Aoko must had let her nervousness show, because the older woman reached over and took her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, he won't bite." She winked. "Please do come in. I'll get you settled, Aoko-chan."

"No, no - I should get going now. Um... be good, Aoko." He patted her head. Aoko felt like a dog.

"So soon?"

"There are some loose ends at the office. You know - last minute stuff and all. Thank you once again, Shiori." He shook her hand. "Give my best regards to Toichi, will you?"

Something flickered in her eyes. "Ah, yes, of course."

With that, Nakamori Ginzo gave Aoko one last (awkward) pat on the head before heading out the door. Aoko watched it click shut behind him. Unease washed over her almost immediately. She was really going to live with the Kurobas for the next three months. She turned toward the older woman, a slight blush creeping to her cheeks, "Er... if there's anything I should could do to help with lunch - "

"Don't worry about it." She dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand. "Your room is just down the hallway - it's the last door from the left. You wouldn't mind if I just go upstairs and get cleaned up quickly, will you?" She eyed her apron, which was damp with splotches of purple and orange. (_What was she cooking_?)

"Of course not!"

"Good, good, get yourself settled." She smiled. "I'll call you when lunch is ready, okay?"

"Okay."

Aoko watched the older woman turn and leapt up the stairs with surprising agility. Shrugging it off, she lugged her suitcase and went down the hallway. Her room was easy to find - the only door with the sign "Nakamori Aoko" taped to it. The room was small but cozy. There was a bed, a desk, and a closet. She set her suitcase onto the bed and looked around. She had a window in her room - the sunlight streamed in wine patches on the walls. Not bad. She could feel the tension easing away.

She didn't pack much - and soon half an hour later she found herself idling with nothing to do. Deciding that there must be_ something_ she could do to help out her hostess, Aoko wondered out into the hallway. She soon came upon the small kitchen. To her surprise, there was nothing bubbling on the stove or sizzling in the pans. In fact, the kitchen looked untouched.

"Kuroba-san?" she went to the staircase. "Can I help with anything?" She called out.

Silence.

Then -

_ Thump._

Her heart skipped a beat. "Kuroba-san?" She called again, tentative.

BAM!

She could hear rustling from above. Footsteps. Her heartbeat quickened. An image of a gagged and bound Mrs. Kuroba flashed across her mind, closely followed by a beefy, hairy man with panty-hose pulled over his face, butcher knife in hand. It couldn't be- but what if -

_Someone had broken in?_

She spotted a mop leaning against the wall out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed it, clenching it tightly in her hands. Her socked foot eased cautiously onto the first step of the staircase -

_All right, thief, you're _so_ going to regret this._

Even though she wasn't a martial arts champion by any reach, she wasn't completely devoid of any self-defence knowledge, either. There were the perks of being the daughter of a police officer. Though, of course, Nakamori Ginzo had probably meant for her to use them against bad-dates-gone-wrong instead of potentially violent break-ins. But you use what you have.

She had come to the top of landing. Her hands were slick with sweat. Still, they gripped the handle with an iron-clasp. There were three doors on the second floor; the sounds were coming in from the one furthest away. The door was nudged open just a crack.

She stayed close to the wall. Muffled, she could just make out a man's voice -

"Jii-chan... I know... of course... she..."

It sounded kind of young - almost like a teenager. Willing her heart back down her throat, (and desperately praying that he wasn't armed), she thrust the door wild open, jumping right into the room -

"All right, let Kuroba-san go or I'll - "

Her jaw dropped.

It was an odd sight to behold. She had expected Mrs. Kuroba to be tied up in a corner, possibly gagged or even knocked unconscious, and the room ransacked with drawers pulled out and closets emptied. Instead, it was completely neat and organized - the bed sheets unwrinkled and the drawers untouched - and Kuroba-san was well and alive, a phone in hand.

Except -

Except Shiori Kuroba was a teenage boy. With a shock of dark hair, wearing the same apron covered in lively shades of orange and purple.

And looking as shocked as she was.

"Wh - how - wha - but-" she stuttered, not quite believing her eyes.

"Wait, I can explain." The boy held up his hands.

"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH KUROBA-SAN?!"

And because it only seemed logical to carry on what her muscles had tautened for the last five minutes, Aoko lunged at the boy, mop at all. The boy ducked easily. The momentum caused Aoko to sail on ahead, losing her footing and crashing onto the bed. She felt a cold draft on her thighs.

A chuckle. Low and stifled. But heard nevertheless.

Blushing furiously, she yanked down her skirt and whipped around, mop in hand. "You pervert!"

And lunged.

"Wait -" Duck. Under. Side. Leaned back. "I'm - not - a- burglar - let me- explain - "

"Yeah, right! Where's Kuroba-san?!" She snapped, a little out of breath from chasing the boy around the room.

"I_ am_ Kuroba-san!"

"Don't pull that one on me, pervert - I'm not that stupid - "

"I'm not a pervert!"

She felt her cheeks burn. "You - (swipe) saw - (two swings) my - m-my," She felt herself fluster.

And there, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. It withered almost as soon she scowled, fumes practically billowing out her ears. "Wait - I didn't see anything - " he held up his hands once more. "I swear I didn't."

She was panting. "Really?"

"Yeah."

She surveyed the boy before her. He certainly didn't look the type to break in houses.

"I swear I didn't see your blue underwear."

There was only a blur as she tackled him to the floor, his back hitting against the ground with a thunderous _bam! _He winced. She held him down by tightly gripping his wrists, her knees threaded with the gaps between his legs.

"Where. Is. Kuroba. San." She breathed.

His blue eyes met hers. "There is no Shiori Kuroba."

"What?"

"I _was_ Kuroba-san."

"Stop messing with me -"

There was an edge to his voice. "My mother has been missing for a while. It was me. All along."

"But... b-but..."

"My name is Kuroba Kaito." And there, the ghost of a grin back on his lips.

"Nice to meet you."

**A/n: It's my first attempt at a more light-hearted fic on Kaito/Aoko. I used to read a lot of shoujo mangas but then I get sort of wearied for the overused plotlines... the ones that, you know, begins with two totally opposite people living under the same roof and end up falling in love with each other. Then it hits me - what if it's Kaito and Aoko who have to go through this? And yes - they are going to endure some painfully embarrassing moments (cackles evilly) as I hope to toy with the overdone clichés on the way. But it's only because I love them. ^^**

** Reviews are always fantastic~ I would love to hear what you guys think!**


	2. The Lesser of Two Evils

**You're An Idiot - Now Kiss Me**

_Disclaimer: I do not own DC/MK. And that's Detective Conan/Magic Kaitou. Not Deranged Cat/Miraculous Kumquats. My neighbour already has one too many. (cat, I mean)_

**Chapter 2: The Lesser of Two Evils… Well, Close Enough**

Aoko had always been a girl who embraced logic. Though somewhat of a romantic at heart - believing in Santa Claus all the way until the third grade – when the booger-eating, snot-snorting Hiroto desecrated her childlike innocence by shamelessly pointing out that one: their house didn't have a chimney, and two: Santa Claus doesn't stumble into the house through the front door, stinking of alcohol and slurring something about that "damned KID" before jabbing two red barrettes into the stockings. He had laughed in her face when she tried to protest, flushed and on the verge of tears. Truth was brutal. But he hadn't expected the consequences of upsetting the little sweet-faced Nakamori Aoko.

It was the first time she wielded The Mop.

And her idyllic dreams remained just that – dreams. With her Tousan clocking overtime practically every day, it was her who shouldered most of the household responsibility. Telephone bills, taxes, chores, groceries – there was nothing that Aoko couldn't – or didn't, do. She had a strong suspicious that without her, Nakamori Ginzo would overdose on instant ramen and beer.

Long story short, Aoko liked logic. Logic was paid bills and grocery lists and emergency telephone numbers. Logic separated everything nicely into black and white. Logic was safe.

And Kuroba Kaito defied logic in every sense, fibre, and soul of the word.

"I'm Kuroba Kaito, nice to meet you."

He was grinning, a nonchalant arc of the lips with poorly suppressed amusement. The grin quickly faltered, though, as she leaned in closer, breathing murder onto his face.

"Stop messing with me."

"I'm telling the truth." His tone was light. But whatever playfulness dancing in his eyes was gone.

"But..." she struggled to get the words out. "But - you - I - Shiori Kuroba - " It didn't make sense. None of it. She _saw _the kind-faced woman open the door, subtly wrinkled at the eyes and long black locks tumbling down the shoulders. And though there was definitely a physical resemblance to the boy trapped beneath her, there was no way the 30-something housewife could have suddenly morphed into a teenage boy. Insolent grin or not.

For a second they laid there, with her on top clamping down his wrists and threaded between his legs and glaring down into his eyes, and him looking up, his face completely unreadable except for the slightest tug of his lips in a lop-sided arc that could (_Oh, God_) be deciphered as interest.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he sighed. "Look, there is no Shiori Kuroba. It was me, all along. Believe it or not."

"Not."

He arched an eyebrow. Then, slowly, she saw his lips part and then -

"_'Aoko-chan, lunch is ready now! Will you please come downstairs?'_"

Aoko's eyes widened. The voice. Slightly raspy but utterly female - exactly the one that had greeted her and Tousan at the door earlier. Except that rather it coming from downstairs, where she could (almost) delude herself thinking that the woman was waiting with a pot of something good to eat, it was issuing from the lips of the boy under her. Flawlessly, the words matched with every contortion of his lips.

Every. Single. Word.

Her grip slackened. Kaito sat up from the ground, easing the shocked girls to her knees. He rubbed his sore wrists, now glowing an angry shade of red.

For a second Aoko just sat there, stunned. Then, suddenly, she got to her feet. (sending Kaito slid onto the ground with another unceremonious _bam_!) "I got to call Tousan."

"What - _wait_!" He reached for the girl, but Aoko was already gone, fleeing from the room and down into the hall. She ran down the stairs. Cursing under his breath, Kaito quickly slid down the banister (leaping over the last flight of stairs) and cut the girl off, agilely sliding his torso to block the air between her hand and the phone.

"Okay - so maybe we didn't get off on the right foot," he panted. "But... look, you can't call your father, okay?"

He could see the struggle in the girl's face: the lingering shock mixed with something like anger. Sensing another bout of yelling coming on, he quickly stepped forward, laying a finger to her lips, "I'm sorry if I upset you, but no one can know about this."

"About - "

"My mother. _This_." He gestured downward at his apron.

"Kuroba-san - she..." And there, her voice trailed off. "Is she...? "

"I don't know," he snapped sharply. Then, catching his curtness, he shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry. But I don't know. She's been missing for three months."

"Tousan's a policeman, he could help - "

"No." He was firm. "It's out of their hands." Seeing another protest rising to her lips, he shook his head again. "It's... it's a family business thing. The Kurobas... well, I guess you can say we have accumulated our fair of hostility. It's complicated."

There was another pause. Aoko's body stilled. The colour drained from her face as, tentatively, she peered up into his face and asked, in a strangled voice,

"You're a drug dealer?"

"_What - _? NO! Nothing like that!"

"Money laundering?"

"No!"

"Child trafficking - "

"Look, it's _nothing like that_." He held up his hands. "It's... more of a personal grudge, okay? Nothing illegal." (He crossed his toes.)

He could practically see the gears in her mind churn with this new piece of information. For a second it seemed as though the scuttling doubts had finally settled. Her frown softened. Then, a new thought striking her, her shoulders squared once more and her eyes flicked back to the phone. She moved. His feet echoed hers, swiftly blocking her path.

"You can't let your father know."

"But we can't live together!"

He cocked his head. "Why not?"

"Well, because..." She was suddenly aware of how little space was between them. Kaito was leaning towards her, his eyes staring unapologetically. And despite the apron and the dress and its ridiculous splotches, she could almost feel the heat radiating off the body underneath – the body of a living, breathing teenage boy. She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. "Well… you're a boy!" She sputtered.

"Very insightful." And the smirk returned. His eyes swept down her body in matter of 0.3 seconds. "And I assume that you're a girl?"

Whatever coyness that might have tinted her cheeks pink died in that instant. Her cheeks flushed redder. "Well," she hissed through gritted teeth. "We don't exactly know each other."

"'Strangers are friends you have yet to meet,'" he shrugged.

Aoko opened her mouth, but no argument poured forth. Catching her hesitation, he pressed on, "Besides, your father is leaving for Europe in..." his eyes flicked to the clock hanging on the wall. "Two hours. He can't possibly make it back now. I don't think we have much choice."

And it was true - literally. Nakamori Ginzo was an only child. The only relative that she could think of who wouldn't squint their eyes in confusion at her showing up at the door was Ojjisan - an ill-tempered old man whose only passion was bemoaning his daily ailments. All too eager to share the details of his hay-coloured stools and the new mole found between his wrinkled buttocks, she had long learned that an innocuous "How are you?" was a trigger for the verbal diarrhoea. The discussion became especially spirited after a few cups of _sake _at dinner – prompting Aoko to excuse herself from the table several times and Ginzo altogether abandoning his daughter to answer yet another KID-related matter midway through dinner. Thus leaving her, all alone, to suffer through the glory of hacking phlegm and the three generations of shame her knee-length skirt brought upon the Nakamoris.

She hated the family holidays.

Aoko sighed. "I supposed so."

"Great!" His face lit up. Aoko blinked, a little taken back by the almost child-like delight in his smile. "I'll go get changed and fix us lunch."

Before she could reply, he was gone. Slightly awed at the nimbleness at which the boy moved, Aoko felt a small, weary smile tug at her own lips. With nothing better to do, she drifted into the living room.

Upon first glance it was organized, innocent in its simplicity. There were armchairs that beckoned with its puffy pillows and the coffee table happily cleared of clutter. There were also books, not so-neatly-aligned in the bookcase engraved into the wall. From their frayed edges she could tell they were much loved – either by inquiring eyes and loving hands or - just plain weather. But with a closer look Aoko found that, saved for the armchair and the bookcase, everything was coated with a delicious layer of dust. Dust bunnies galore under the chairs and behind the sofa. She even found a bird feather behind one cushion.

And that was, perhaps, why she was a little taken back by the fireplace. Though it looked unused for years, the mantle glowed a pristine white. There was only picture resting on top - unspoiled by dust, unlike the rest of the house. Carefully, she picked it up.

A man and a woman, cradling a cooing child in their arms. She instantly recognized the woman as Kuroba-san (or whom Kaito had disguised as earlier, anyway) with tousled dark locks and a softly angled face. She looked young - perhaps only in her twenties. The man had his hair parted carelessly at the side, the faint shadow of a moustache budding above his smiling lips. The boy was laughing at the camera - a picture of pure delight. A thin line of spit dribbled down his chin.

"Lunch is ready!"

Jostled, Aoko hastily placed the picture frame back onto the mantle just as the wild-haired boy poked his head into the room.

"Lunch is ready," he repeated.

"Um, yeah, okay." She flustered. She could feel the heat coming onto her cheeks again, and she knew that it was one of guilt. Stupid, of course - she hadn't done anything wrong, just glanced at a picture. And yet for some reason she felt like as if she had intruded on something private - even sacred. Kaito was looking at her, head tilted to one side. She smoothed down her skirt, intent on the tiny fold on the hem.

"You okay?"

"Um, yeah, of course." She looked up. His eyes, so blue, unnerved her. "Coming."

She followed him into the kitchen. A pitcher of milk was sitting in the middle of the table, surrounded by two immaculate china bowls of -

"Is this _cereal_?" She found herself staring at the sizable mound of dark brown chunks lying at the bottom of the bowl.

Kaito bit back a laugh. "Of course not - I wouldn't serve cereal for lunch!"

She lifted a spoonful to her nose and stared. There was a fine dusting of powdered sugar on the coffee-coloured pieces. Her eyes widened. "Are they- "

"Crushed cookies!" the boy offered helpfully. "Oh, and you can have orange juice if you want, too." He reached to pull open the refrigerator door.

Without a word Aoko marched right up to him and glanced in. She had to stifle a cry - the ice box was completely barren - saved for a half head of wilted cabbage, a block of _fur_ that might have resembled a dairy product during a point in its life - and a carton of orange juice, dwarfed by its giant 4-litre colleague of chocolate milk by its side.

"Or maybe you prefer chocolate milk?" He glanced back at her.

179 days to go.

**A/n: Oh, dear, the weather's been horrid for the past week. Thunder and lightening just now, actually. Though I have grown to like the rain - pouring, as it is. I guess you can get used to anything after a while.**

**Please review ~ it would make this penguin, oh, so happy! ^^**


	3. To Bathe A Fish

**Chapter Three: To Bathe a Fish **

_Disclaimer: Don't own don't own don't own. _

Exhausted, Aoko threw herself onto the bed.

Grocery shopping, by itself, was a chore – tiring, but by no means strenuous enough to tear a soul apart and damned it to the fiery pits. Going grocery shopping with Kuroba Kaito, however, was a _seppuku_ of the body and mind. The boy made a beeline toward the glossy, sugar-laden aisles as soon as they had stepped in through the doors. She had to physically wrench the cart out of his reach – (it was as if the boy had never heard of "self-restraint" or "diabetes" before). But the devil is sly, yes, the moment she turned her back to check on a carton of eggs, an avalanche of cookies and chocolate bars quivered once more in the metallic chest. She was amazed by her own self-control – opting to throw a potato at the sugar-obsessed head instead of the watermelon.

The rice was washed and steaming in the rice cooker, its subtle sweetness wafting down the hall. She could hear the rhythmic clatter of knife against the wooden cutting board in the kitchen. The fish was marinating in the fridge (imagine her wonder when she found a whole pack of them left in the freezer, tucked at the very back and untouched - didn't the boy realize there was real food in the house?) – not that the dark-haired miscreant was allowed anywhere near that. Judging by the poorly-suppressed "ow" issuing from the kitchen every 3 minutes, the boy was best left to chopping vegetables. She would handle the entree herself.

But first – a bath.

Or a shower, to be more realistic. (Leaving the boy in the kitchen for than 15 minutes just screamed bad idea). But still... a quick shower wouldn't hurt. Her clothes were wrinkled and stale from sitting in the car all morning, and her aching limbs simply begged for the healing touch of hot water. Peeling herself from the bed, Aoko grabbed a simple change of clothes from the closet before stepping down the hall, rounding the corner to the guest bathroom.

5 minutes.

It would be okay.

---

Kuroba Kaito did not like vegetables.

Actually, Kuroba Kaito did not care for anything armoured with a cellulose skin capable of deflecting the knife onto his fingers.

And he certainly didn't care for the plethora of greens and oranges lining up by the sink, just leering for him to _try_ to chop them into bite-sized pieces.

_"_Ow!_" _

He flinched, jerking back from the counter.

32 times.

Exasperated, he grabbed a paper towel and wrapped it around his bleeding finger. He winced - the cut was deeper this time, and the blood soon soaked through the flimsy papyrus. He slipped his index finger into his lips, sucking on the coppery taste, and glanced back at the task at hand.

- his eyes widened.

Blood. Goblets of red, splayed all over the broccoli florets.

Singing -

_Nah nah nah nah nah_

Aoko was going to _kill_ him.

Damn it – why should he care? Kuroba Kaito was not going to let some random girl barge into his life and shove fibre and vitamins down his throat! He drank orange juice! _Orange juice,_ for goodness sake – it wasn't as if he was going to get scurvy!

_Nah nah nah nah naaaaaaah..._

His fingers hurt.

Silently, Kuroba Kaito began rinsing the broccoli.

---

Aoko turned off the water.

The cold air assaulted her dewy flesh immediately. Shivering, she quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself. She reached for her clothes; her hands worked swiftly, untangling her undergarments from her night clothes. The bundle seemed a little light in her hands... a little too light...

She had forgotten to grab a shirt.

Not a big deal – Kaito should still be in the kitchen, battling the carrots and the cauliflower and who knew what else. She had the towel and the pyjama bottoms and they were enough to cover her during the short sprint from the bath to the bedroom.

30 seconds.

Tops.

---

Kuroba Kaito was restless.

The vegetables bobbed in the basin in the sink, their corpses (adequately, he would like to think) diced and chopped. Aoko had told him to prep the vegetables – and now that was done and over with, what should he do now? He eyed the rice cooker, burping nonchalant white puffs of steam into the air. He could start on the cooking... he was sure that Aoko had left some sort of meat thawing in the fridge. Heat it up, mix in some salt and_ voila_ – done. The girl was way too neurotic. There was no trick to turning on the stove and banging a pan around, it was foolproof, almost.

He sashayed toward the refrigerator. Back bent, head dipped, he pulled open the door.

And looked.

And stopped breathing.

Two eyes, staring back him.

Two, big, vacant eyes.

Sitting on top of a wide, gaping mouth.

Trickling into a slimy, slithery, scaly skin.

Two fins.

One tail.

"!!"

---

Aoko startled, dropping her underwear onto the floor.

Was that Kaito screaming bloody murder?

Tightening the towel around herself, she edged the door open by a crack.

"Kaito - " she started.

"AHHHHH!! FIIIIIIIIISH--"

---

They say that the difference between fate and destiny is that fate happens, and destiny is something you make happen.

But really, it's just a better way of saying "you're screwed."

---

Images of the boy accidentally chopping off his hand swam to mind. Panicking, Aoko clutched the towel firmer around herself before rushing down the hallway into the kitchen where, in her mind's eye, a bloody severed limb twiched on the tiles.

"Kaito -"

The boy was sitting on the ground, ashen-faced and scooting as far as he could away from the fridge. As soon as she came into the kitchen his head snapped up, his eyes wide as saucers. Before Aoko could react the boy lunged at her; losing her footing, she tumbled backward, limbs entangled, landing both of them on the floor with a ear-splitting CRASH!

"FISH!!!! Get away get away get away - "

Kaito was in full-panic mode. Scrambling to get up, his limbs flailing in a frenzy - and Aoko felt her towel being tugged away -

"What are you doing - "

"FISHFISHFISHFISHHHHHH -"

There was a jumble of thrashing arms and legs as both of them tried to get up simultaneously - the boy sputtering incoherent syllables and the girl baffled by the said incoherent syllables. In one last desperate attempt she grabbed onto both of his thrashing him arms and shoved - he rolled over, and her hands still on his wrists, tumbled along, so that she was now on top, the boy caged under her.

"CALM DOWN!" she shouted. "What the heck is going on?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Well? Are you hurt?" she immediately scanned his body for bleeding stumps. Nothing. Her eyes flicked back to his blue ones. He was still gaping at her. She frowned, worried. "Kaito?" she softened her voice. "Are you okay?"

His eyes flicked, a fraction of a millisecond, downwards. Confused, she looked down -

White.

Crumpled.

Towel.

On the floor.

Cold draft on her skin.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH - DON'T LOOK!"

Leaping back, she immediately dove for the towel and pulled it around her self. Blushing profusely, she turned back to the boy. Their eyes met. Heat surging through every vein in her body, Aoko felt her muscles tauten - longing for the mop - then slacken - defeat, then finally overwhelmed. Trembling, she felt her legs give away and she slumped against the kitchen cabinets. "This is the worst day ever..." she buried her face in her hands, refusing to even look at the boy.

Silence.

Aoko felt a lump rise to her throat...

_Darn it... Aoko... this is nothing to cry over about..._

"Aoko." She heard quiet rustling, then a body settling down near her. His voice was soft. "I'm sorry."

"I hate you." Her voice was muffled.

"I can tell."

"You're an idiot."

He paused.

"I respect your opinion."

"This days sucks," she could hear the child in her voice, and hated it. "Tousan left me behind... again. And you saw me naked." She paused. "And my underwear."

He sighed. She looked up. He ran a hand through his messy hair, his blue eyes darkening considerably. He looked weary. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

They stayed like that for a while, not speaking, silent. But the tension shifted, and there was a new cosiness in the silence. The silence where it was okay to just be... silent.

Another murmurous rustle, this time cloth crinkling against itself. Tugged the sweater over his head, Kaito draped the knitted apparel over her shoulders. It was warm. Almost instinctively her fingers reached out and clutched at the sweater around herself; the residue of his body heat taming the goosebumps.

"Thanks."

"Hm."

Feeling a new kind of blush tinting her cheeks, she drew the sweater herself and stood up. "Well... I suppose we should get started on dinner."

He looked up, the boyish grin back. "Yeah, we should."

"I'll just take out the fish - " she marched right over to the fridge, leaned in, and -

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH -"

---

They ate their dinner in silence.

"On the bright side," he said, looking up from his plateful of charred carrots. "We did get to know each other better."

Pause.

Aoko reached over, took the bottle of soy sauce, and poured it on his rice.

**A/n: Ah...yes, the typical shower scene where the boy/girl walks in on the girl/boy. It's almost the #1 golden rule of shojo manga. It's so cliché it's cringe-worthy.**

**Anyways... this didn't turn out exactly the way I had planned... I have to say, looking back, the embarrassing factor was dialed down **_**a lot**_**. But these things tend to take on a life of its own and you never know quite to expect at the end! ^^**

**As always ~ review and tell me what you think! **


	4. Trust Me, I'm a Detective

**Chapter Four: Trust me, I'm a Detective**

_Disclaimer: Do not own._

Breakfast passed by rather uneventfully the next morning. Much to Nakamori Aoko's dismay, the tousled-haired boy had slept in; his infernal alarm clock wailing ten minutes straight before she finally abandoned the eggs sizzling in pan, marched up the stairs, stepped through all the cards and gadgets that ate up the floor of the boy's room, and tipped him right out of bed.

Then, discovering that Kuroba Kaito slept (only) in his boxers, slam-kicking groggy boy back under the covers again.

Honestly, what did the boy do all night? She didn't hear a peep from the rambunctious teen for the whole night - much to her surprise. Yet Kaito slurped down his toast and juice with such lethargy Aoko had to physically lean over the table and slap the fork from inserting itself into his nose.

"If anyone asks at school, say that you're my cousin."

The door clicking shut behind him, Kaito waited for her out on the porch as she tugged on a woollen scarf.

"Why?" she jiggled the doorknob, making sure it was locked before tumbling down the step after the boy. "We don't look anything alike."

"Thank God."

She threw him a glare.

It was a cold morning; Aoko could see their breath swimming before them in small clouds. They were walking next to each other, keeping just enough distance between them without plunging into the gutters lining the both sides of the road. Yawning, Kaito ran a hand through his messy locks before tucking them into the pockets of his black trousers.

"You'll see when we get to school."

Her hand tightened on the strap of her backpack. "If you haven't noticed, I'm a little weary of mysteries by now."

The boy opened his mouth, one brow poised to disappear behind his bangs when there was a poorly-stifled titter from behind them. Startled, both heads turned - it was a middle-aged woman. She had a heart-shaped face and a generous body, socks with sandals in typical Obasan-manner. A basket of produce slung over one arm.

"Kaito-kun!" The woman bumbled forth, one hand immediately lunging for the boy's elbow. "It's been a while! How is your mother doing these days?"

Kaito's lips tugged upward in a polite smile, but the awkward twitch was not unmissed by the girl.

"Fine, Tanaka-san. How are you?"

"Oh, lovely - just lovely," the woman simpered. "Oh, you know - Aya's still talking about you all the time. Though she did mention that you guys haven't really hung out much this year. I hope everything is okay?" Her eyes suddenly took on a sharp glint as they swept from the boy to Aoko. "And this is -?"

"Naka -"

"My cousin," Kaito cut off hurriedly. "Her parents have gone on a vacation oversea and she's staying with us for the time being. She's Nakamori Aoko." Suddenly, Aoko felt Kaito reach behind her and gave her a rather ungentle poke in the ribs. Putting on a grin herself (though it felt more of a muscle spasm), Aoko beamed back at the woman.

"_Aoko-chan_!" the woman exclaimed. "What a lovely name! Nice to meet you!" Eyes narrowed in slits that spoke otherwise, the woman suddenly tugged Aoko forward in an one-arm hug. Aoko could've sworn she smelled gunpowder on the woman's sensibly purple cardigan. She pulled away, still beaming. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two youngsters setting out for school." She gave Kaito's smiling cheeks one quick yank. "And I'll see you around, Kaito-kun!" Winking, the lady turned and disappeared down the block.

"I need a shower." Looking slightly aghast, the boy rubbed his reddened cheek.

"What was that?" They set out for school again, the gap between their shoulders shrinking considerably.

"Oh, just some neurotic lady living next door who's been trying to set me up with her equally neurotic daughter for the last 17 years."

"Aya?"

"She's been stalking me since grade five. Thank God we're not in the same class this year. I swear the girl's been drilling holes in the boy's change room."

Aoko stifled a giggle. Kaito threw her a look.

"What?"

"Oh, no, nothing." Aoko felt a smile tug at her lips. "I guess it's just kind of funny. Touchan enrolled me in an all-girl school and we've never had this kind of thing happening back there."

"You," the boy muttered darkly. "Were lucky."

"Maybe." Memories of yesterday flooding her mind, Aoko thought it was a poor description of her situation so far. A cold winter draft breezed past.

"_Ah-choo_!"

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, digging her pockets for tissues, voice slightly nasal. "It's probably just the dry air."

"Here."

Suddenly, a fresh (if somewhat crumpled) handkerchief was nudged into her hands.

"...Thanks."

A little unsure, she took the cloth and held it up to her nose.

It smelled like mint chocolate.

"It's clean," the boy snapped, noticing her hesitation.

Embarrassed, Aoko sputtered, "Oh, no - I wasn't -"

"_KUROBA-KUN_!"

There was a mouse-like squeak from the boy. Curious, Aoko followed the direction of his eyes and spotted a teenage girl up ahead. Rosy-cheeked, she was clenching something wrapped in gold foil and a what appeared to be a letter in her hands. At the sight of them her eyes lit up immediately, marvelling Aoko the speed of which she was barrelling down the street.

"The school's just up ahead. I'll see you later -" she heard Kaito gulped out.

"Wait - "

But before Aoko could stop the boy, he was gone, a flurry of dry leaves left twirling in the air after him.

"Kurooooooba-kun!" Crooning, her voice carrying at least two blocks over, the girl slowed as she approached Aoko, Kaito long gone. Pouting, the girl pursed her two perfectly glossed lips and swerved her head in exaggerated arcs for the boy. Then, her eyes sweeping over the slightly stunned form of Nakamori Aoko, she frowned, lips pulled back in a sneer, "Were_ you_ justwith Kuroba-kun?"

The girl was actually quite pretty. But whatever friendly empathy Aoko had been prepared to offer died right then and there as she felt the girl's eyes flicked over her from head to toe, trailing from her chaotic fringe to her knee-length skirt in a matter of seconds. Her lips twisted into a triumphant sneer.

"Yeah, so what?" Aoko snapped.

The girl looked stunned at the blatant "yes." Then, the sneer sliding smoothly into place once more, she snorted. "Yeah, right." She pushed past Aoko, shoving her back with all the force of a linebacker, packing surprising strength in her seemingly delicate shoulders. With an _oomph _Aoko was knocked back into a telephone pole nearby, tumbling right into a mountain of garbage bags.

"_Kurobaaaaaa-kun!_"

The girl's screech faded as she half-jogged down the street and rounded a corner. Wincing, Aoko thought she heard a muffled shriek.

Wearily, Aoko brushed a piece of banana peel from her hair. Great... this was just great, the first day of school and already she was in the dumps. Rubbing her sore behind Aoko collected herself from the ground.

Maybe she should just go back to the house and hibernate until Ginzo came back.

_No... Aoko, what kind of talk was that_! A voice in her head chided immediately. _Nakamoris didn't give up that easily_! Did her Tousan quit his job after failing to catch KID for 17 years? _No!_ Did his consumption of cigars and alcohol markedly increase? Er... perhaps. But there were only 178 days left, weren't there? Just make through another eight hours of school and another day would be half-done already...

Brushing the dirt from her skirt, Aoko straightened up and glanced hopefully down the street.

_You could do it, Aoko_!

Then, with a sinking heart, she realized she had no idea where the school was.

"Just up ahead" was an adequate direction when you were at an open road and the destination was in plain sight. "Just up ahead" was a miserable excuse for a direction when not the peak of the building could be seen, and the streets all resembled one another everywhere you looked. Not to mention that the street she was currently standing on forked in two right up ahead.

Kicking away a tumbleweed that somehow found its way across Pacific, Aoko began contemplating serving fish for dinner.

Aoko tumbled to her knees, too hopeless to resist gravity.

"Do you need some help?"

Suddenly, a pair of newly polished shoes swam into view. Long legs clasped in crisp black pants. Aoko glanced up. Glimmering gold buttons that extended all the way to the neck - formal but somehow lacking the nerdiness it would've radiated off lesser males. Neatly groomed blonde hair. Light hazel eyes. The boy - no, the young _man_ - smiled amiably.

"Here." The man reached into his pocket, drew out a surgical-grade latex glove, tugged it over his hand, and offered it to her.

"Thanks." Aoko took his gloved hand and rose from the ground. Still smiling politely, he tugged the glove from his hand and tossed it to the nearest trash can.

"Sorry," he said smoothly. "It's the swine flu. You can never be too careful."

"Oh, no, not at all." Aoko felt her cheeks flame. The young man's manner and charm flowed seamlessly, exuding an air of such intoxicating charisma and Aoko felt slightly drunk just standing nearby. She exhaled.

"I don't suppose you're new to Ekoda High?"

Her heart leapt. "I am! How'd you know? Are you a detective?"

"Well, no, the name of the school is stitched on your bag."

"Oh."

"But, yes," the young man ran a hand through his impeccably combed hair. They glittered under the sunless sky, and Aoko could've sworn that time slowed at that instant - the golden trusses falling back one by one his drandruff-less scalp in slow motion. Not one strand out of place. "I am a detective. My name is Hakuba Saguru."

"Hakuba?!"

The tips of his lips tugged upwards ever so subtly." Yes, I'm quite active in the Japanese media, actually."

"Oh, the newspapers - right! Of course, yes!" Aoko chuckled weakly. In fact, the reason she had heard of him was from Nakamori Ginzo himself, mumbling as he came home from yet another KID heist, griping about some "fair-haired pompous brat" and censored this and censored that.

He didn't need to know that.

"I'm Nakamori Aoko," she flustered

"What an unique name," Hakuba smiled. "I can walk you to Ekoda High if you wish."

A beam of sunlight broke through the clouds above and shone directly onto the boy. In the heavens above, angels sang.

"That - that would be great!"

"Excellent... now." The boy gestured toward the end of the street. Which forked into two different paths. Hakuba, still smiling amiably, turned toward Aoko. "Which way should we go?"

"Er -" Slightly dazed from the spontaneous sparkles that glittered around the boy, Aoko swooned. "I thought you went to Ekoda High?"

"Oh, yes, I do, but normally Bayaa drives me." The blond rubbed his chin with his index finger and thumb thoughtfully. "No worries. Judging by that urine spot left on that telephone pole right there, I'm sure we take a right turn."

"Um," Aoko hesitated. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Hakuba blinked. Then, exhaling a sigh so heavy and long that it seemed to physically pain him, he started, "Well, Aoko-kun, dogs are very affectionate animals. With just a look and a whimper they are able to feed their bellies from us sympathetic humans. Which is especially true of the female population, typically when they're from the age of 5 to 25 - an age when adorable furry things are most likely to be awarded with treats, high-pitched tittering, and tight hugs. The dogs, of course, are well aware of this phenomenon."

"...Okay."

"And where do girls from the age of 5 to 25, or to be more specific - 15 to 18, gather?" Hakuba brushed one hand through his trimmed bangs. "High schools."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." The boy arched one elegantly shaped eyebrow. "I'm a detective."

And Aoko felt tipsy from his charm once again. The confidence was practically oozing from every one of the boy's well-concealed pores. This was what Prince Charmings were made of, Aoko thought dreamily. To suddenly appear on foot and sweep her away from distress. Not like a certain wild-haired idiot who was incapable of giving succinct directions.

Just as they were to go right, there was a loud screech of tires screaming behind them. A shiny black car suddenly swerved into the street, squealing to an abrupt stop before them. The doors were thrust open with a _bang _and two men from the back seat came out. They had on tinted sunglasses and black suits. One of them held up a gun.

"Hakuba Saguru - meet your maker!" The man screamed.

"NOOO!" Instinctively Aoko jumped toward the stunned boy, knocking him to the safety of the ground. She winced, waiting for the inevitable ear-shattering pop that would mark their end.

Waited.

Waited.

... And waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, Aoko cracked open one eye. Hakuba wasn't moving.

"Hakuba-kun?" tentatively, she rose to her knees and shook the boy by the shoulder. "Are you okay?"

No response.

"Oh my God!" One of the man in the black suits screamed. "She killed him!"

"Hurry - get back in the car! She might go psycho on us too!"

The car doors slammed. The tires squealed - backing from the wall and rolling down the street so fast in a blink of eye they were gone.

"Hakuba-kun?" Aoko called out anxiously. She cupped the boy's face in her hands and gasped. Only the whites of his eyes were visible. "Oh, God, Hakuba-kun - please wake up! Please don't die! Don't die please don't die!" Grasping folds of his collars in her hands, hysterical tears brimmed from her eyes. She buried her face in the boy's limp chest, sobbing.

"..._What _the hell are you doing?"

Blinking back blurry tears, Aoko's head snapped up at the familiar voice. She had never been so happy to see that shock of black hair bobbling toward her. Panting as if he had just gotten away from a chase and looking visibly shaken, Kaito strolled down the street, trying to adjust his shredded belt into place. Catching her eyes, he shot her a "Don't-ask" look. He cocked head toward the blonde boy in her arms. "What's up with blondie over there?"

"I... I don't know," Aoko stammered, swallowing the knot in her throat. "There... there were some men who showed in a black car and aimed a gun at us. I... I thought they were going to shoot so... so I tackled him to the ground. And... and then he didn't wake up." her voice cracked.

The boy came over to her side and kneeled down. He took the detective's pale wrist and frowned. Then, relaxing his brows, he let it drop back to the ground. "Don't worry, idiots don't die easily."

"Who said that?"

"Me, just now." The boy dusted his pant legs, straightening up from the ground. " He's fine. Probably got knocked out cold when you slammed him into the ground."

"I was trying to save his life!" Aoko protested.

"And now he's unconscious."

Washed by a fresh wave of guilt, Aoko dipped her head back down, cradling the boy closer. "I was... I was only trying to help." She turned her face away.

There was an awkward pause. Then, softly, Kaito said, "I didn't mean it that way..."

"Arrrrrrgggh-"

Suddenly, there was loud groan. Brown eyes cracking open. Aoko gasped as the boy stirred in her arms.

"Hakuba-kun, you're all right!"

"Oh, dear..." the boy raised one hand to his forehead, wincing. "Who are you?"

He blinked, eyes unfocused. Then, slowly, he reached up one hand and rested it against Aoko's cheek. "Are you an angel?"

Behind them, Kaito stifled a snicker. Aoko threw him a glare.

"I'm Nakamori Aoko... we just met, remember?" she flashed him a sheepish smile.

"Ao... Aoko?" he blinked. "Is... is that my name?"

Kaito choked on something half-way between a snort and a laugh.

"Um, no, _you_'re Hakuba Saguru. _I'm_ Nakamori Aoko," she repeated patiently. "You were knocked out cold there for a bit. ...How do you feel now?" She laid one hand on his forehead.

"Ha... Hakuba Saguru?" the boy blinked, confused.

"Who's that?"

**A/n: After wading through all the angst I've been writing for my recent KA fics, I've finally decided to pick up my Kiss-Idiot fic again for a fresh breath of air. I apologize for the slow and erratic updates - the series are not dead! The plunnies just drag their feet. ^^**

**And thus, please do enjoy the pure and utter crack in this chapter. And yes, I'm fully aware that I've butchered Hakuba. But you know the classic memory loss is bound to show up somewhere! XD**

**As Always, happy reading!**


	5. D'oh!

**Chapter Four: D'oh!**

_Disclaimer: I do - I do - I do... not own._

"Ah - _ah - ACHOO_!"

"Bless you, Mr. Nakamori."

"Ah... thank you." Bleary-eyed, Nakamori Ginzo accepted the neatly folded handkerchief offered from a man seated next to him and blew his nose, not bothering to stifle the raucous honk. Not that it mattered - the ICPO conference room was massive - with the ceilings stretching upward to the heavens and the walls expanding into infinity. Add that with several hundred police officers from all over the world - grumbling, cursing, arguing, yelling over each other - an elephant could have passed gas in the room and no one would've taken notice.

It was weird not having any subordinate to yell at, thought Ginzo, crumpling the used cloth into a ball. He picked up a powdered doughnut from the box. The trademark cuisine of police officers everywhere. They didn't have them back at the headquarters in Japan. But that could change. Soon. _Very soon_. He would just have to stash them out of sight quickly enough when his health-conscious daughter came around. (Ginzo grumbled inwardly at the thought - the girl wouldn't even let him have more than three cans of beer a night! Aoko was way too uptight... Ginzo felt his mind beginning to drift off... where _had_she gotten her stubbornness from, anyway? It couldn't have been him. He used mops to clean. Mops were good. Aoko used them to _kill_. With the mop in hand, the girl could be considered _armed and dangerous.)_

"... and as he had most contact with KID in the last 17 years, we shall ask Mr. Ginzo Nakamori from Tokyo, Japan to enlighten us with some new information."

Hearing his name, Ginzo startled, almost dropping his doughnut. Hundreds of eyes in the room jerked toward him simultaneously; there was a massive shuffling of cloth against chair as men either turned around or craned their necks forward to get a better look. The mutterings died down.

A tired-looking, bald man was standing at the front of the room at the podium. The microphone was wet with spittle. (The rumors had it that he was the only one who had ever caught a glimpse of KID's true identity. The shock was so great all his hair fell off in a fortnight.) He was also looking up at him. Expectantly.

They were waiting.

"Er..." Feeling slightly claustrophobic, Ginzo stood up from his chair. He glanced before him. It was a treacherous hike - he had to push past at least thirty men just to get to the end of the aisle - none of whose pot-bellies looked very eager at sucking themselves in just to let him pass. Suddenly, a hand reached up and tugged at Ginzo's sleeve. It was the man who had handed him the handkerchief earlier. Their eyes met. The man flicked his eyes back down on the table.

Ginzo followed the man's blue gaze - and swallowed. Embarrassment colouring his cheeks, he sat back down on his chair. Hastily, Ginzo wrapped his hand around the microphone already attached to his table, tugging it closer to his moustached chin.

From the back of the room, someone snorted.

"Um, hi, I am Nakamori Ginzo." He cleared his throat. God, they were all _staring_. How did KID stand the attention? "And, um, I'm a senior Inspector from Japan. I lead the Japanese KID task force, also known as Unit #3 under the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. I've been actively pursing KID for the last 17 years."

The room broke out in sympathetic murmurs. A man with a white beard so long it trailed to his lap broke out in tears.

"The latest heist had involved Kirin's Horn, property of Suzuki Jirokichi. Suzuki Jirokichi has a history of challenging KID. During the last heist Mr. Jirokiche had specifically requested that children were present during the proceedings -"

"You let him get away!" Someone shouted.

Ginzo's moustache twitched. "We had at least fifty men on the job. Very specific security measures were put in place -"

"Mr. Nakamori, is it true that a child was hurt during the heist?" Someone else barked out.

"You let KID escape _again_?" A woman shrieked accusingly.

"We were hot on his heels for an hour - we combed the woods -"

"You should've pinched everyone's cheeks -"

"_Children_ - ? What were you thinking -"

"You failed!"

"WELL - SO DID YOU_!_" Ginzo shouted into his microphone. The room sank into a stunned (hurt) silence. Taking a few seconds to calm his rattled nerves, Ginzo cleared his throat. He focused his eyes on the wall behind the bald man (purposely averting the watering eyes in the house) and continued, "Um, anyways... with the help of Hakuba Saguru - our lead detective in KID's cases, we have deduced that KID is probably around the age of late forties to the early fifties. He is very good at playing magic tricks and disguises -"

"All of which we already know," The man at the podium interrupted. "Mr. Nakamori, do you have any new information on the upcoming heist?"

Ginzo blinked. Then, slowly, he resumed, "The Kirin Horn had been returned..."

The bald man dismissed the rest of the words with an impatient wave of his hand.

"That is old news, Mr. Nakamori. A new heist note has come to our attention three days ago." Frowning, the man held up a remote and clicked on a button. A gigantic screen rose into the air and blinked into focus.

_The widow weeps of her empty nest_

_Ebony tears shed for her empty chest_

_On the cusp of day I shall come_

_Her lady's pain I shall numb_

_Kaito Kid (doodle)_

The room broke into a low murmur once more. Tongue-tied, Ginzo felt his jaw unhinge and drop to the floor with a solid _thud_.

_"_B-but - but this is not possible,_" _he stuttered. "If my people had gotten ahold of the note they would've alerted me at once -"

"That is why," the bald man interrupted coolly. "We suspect that there is a spy among us. An insider leaking information to KID. The heist is clearly going to take place in Japan - and yet the notice was delivered directly to the attention of ICPO. No one is supposed to know about our convention. As far as anyone is concerned, every and each of you -" he swept his dark eyes across the room. "Are on vacation." (Ginzo swallowed. What exactly had he told Aoko again?) The man glanced down at his notes. "And also, during his most recent heist KID had disguised as Mr. Nakamori himself. This has led several detective speculating that he either has an insider feeding him information, or," he paused, then - his voice dipping an ominous octave. The men held their breath. "He is in this room. Right. Now."

All hell broke lose.

Officers and detectives alike lunged across tables, hands scratching at cheeks - fingers pinching at noses - nails tearing at jowls. The room erupted in pained shouts, nasal "Stop it, you idiot - I'm the real thing!" and irritated "Watch where you're grabbing, jerk!"

Ginzo sank into his chair. It was going to be a long day.

**A/n: Ginzo makes an appearance in this chapter! Finally, eh? Any Ginzo fangirl out there? XD *raises hand* I'm a total fangirl of KID!Ginzo... KID!Takagi... KID!Shinichi... er...**

**Ahem, anyways, hope everyone had fun reading. Cookies, anyone?**


	6. The Aftermath

**Chapter Six: The Aftermath**

_Disclaimer: Can you imagine all the things that would happen to poor Hakuba if I owned DC? No... just no._

"Where... where am I?"

Aoko and Kaito exchanged a look. Draped across the girl's lap, the fair-haired detective inhaled weakly, the gold of his eyes glazed to a delicious caramel brown that stole Aoko's breath away (_again_) as he stretched one hand into the air. Slowly, he spread the fingers apart. The arch of his brows disappeared behind his windswept bangs as he stared up at his hand, at the grey air grasped in between.

"Wow," Hakuba breathed.

"Um... Hakuba-kun," Aoko began, her eyes tracing over the childlike awe on the detective's face. Even though Aoko had only known the boy for mere hours, she could tell it was a look that didn't fit well with his chiselled features. She swallowed. "Are you... are you okay?"

Hakuba drew back his hand and swept it lightly across his golden tresses. The hair fluttered for a fraction of a second in the wind - with an almost majestic tremor - then fell back strand by strand into each of its respectable place on the boy's perfectly dandruff-less scalp. Slowly, the dark honey of his optical orbs shifted their focus towards Aoko's own blue eyes. His lips - two impeccable halves of a pastel heart - drooped downwards ever so slightly in chagrin. "Do I _look_ okay?"

"Um," Aoko stumbled. "Yes?"

"Oh, good." Hakuba exhaled in relief. "You had me worried there for a second."

Behind them, Kaito let out a loud snort - then, catching the murder in Aoko's eye, swallowed the laugh teetering on his lips and pulled down his face in a remorseful-oh-dear-I'm-so-sorry-for-what-happened look. (Aoko was immediately reminded of a stray cat slinking into an alleyway, its long body arched solemnly over the squeaking pleas of a trapped mouse.) Pants woes forgotten, Kaito strolled forward, crouching down to Hakuba's level and smiled. (And then, remembering that he was supposed to sympathetic, hastily flipped the angle of his grin.) "Goodness, Hakuba, you don't even know who KID is, do you?"

"I have a child?" Hakuba's eyes widened, voice parched with horror.

"Two." Kaito corrected.

"_Kaito_," Aoko hissed, daring the boy to inflict any more damage with her eyes. Though, judging by the look on the Hakuba's face, the trauma seemed to be setting in already. Dimly, she could hear the detective murmur frantically to himself. (I'm a _father_. But... it can't be - God, I hope they're not named something hideous like Saguru...") "Hakuba-kun, you don't have any kids. Kaito was just messing with your head."

" - Watson would be a fair name... wait, _what_?"

"You're a detective," Aoko explained patiently. "You're after this stupid thief named KID who steals jewels just for the sake of it. You work very closely with my father, Inspector Nakamori Ginzo?" Aoko clenched her fist and waved it in the air, scowling as she did so. "Big man, moustache, 'Stupid-KID-next-time-it-won't-be-so-easy?'" Catching Hakuba's eyes, Aoko felt her cheeks flamed up and she quickly dropped her hands. "Um, yeah. I'm, er, his daughter, Nakamori Aoko."

"Blue Child," Hakuba said softly.

"Um, yeah." Unable to bear the intensity of the boy's honeyed gaze, Aoko turned her eyes quickly and caught Kaito rolling his eyes. She stuck out her tongue.

There was a pause as the detective mulled over the new information. For good measure, Aoko added, "A very, _very _stupid thief."

"Says something about the Inspector who fails to catch him 17 years running, doesn't it?" Kaito smirked.

"He gets lucky," Aoko said, suppressing the snarl in her voice as she turned back to Hakuba, who, to her surprise, was looking contemplative, a new glint in his eyes.

"His name is... KID, you say?"

"Kaitou KID. Yeah." Aoko searched her mind. Ginzo had always been very reluctant letting her attend heists. Not that she ever let it stop her from marching, picket sign, banner, and all - the lone voice of dissent among the cheering crowd. Most of what she knew about KID came from the papers, the occasional slip of the tongue from the polices at the scene, and Ginzo's incoherent ramblings two beers down after dinner. "White suit, red tie, blue shirt? He also wears a magician's top hat and a monocle in one eye."

"Exceptional magic tricks, too" Kaito grinned. Aoko scowled.

"Attention hog."

"Magician extraordinaire."

"Drama king._"_

"A gentleman of charm."

"Charming, my -"

"KID, internationally wanted thief. File number #1412. First heist occurred at the Tokyo Art Gallery on December 31st. At first notorious for stealing famous works of art, KID has since switched to high-publicized heists of famous gems. First interaction took place on February 23. The heist was schedules at 22:00. The target was of a painting worth 4 billion yen. KID was one minute and 13.02 seconds late."

There was a stunned silence as Aoko glanced down at Hakuba, who, one hand poised thoughtfully under his chin, had rattled out the dates and numbers so smoothly and with such confidence it was hard to believe they were recalled on the spot. Kaito, on the hand, had lost his playful grin and was looking at Hakuba thoughtfully.

"Whuh?" Aoko gasped.

Suddenly, Hakuba clutched at his head, his porcelain features fractured in a knot of pain. "I had arrived at 8:15:16pm... but I... arrrgh, I can't... I can't, _can't remember..._" Burying his face in his arms, Hakuba coiled away from Aoko's worried arms, his face writhing, mind helplessly groping for lost memories.

"Ha-Hakuba-kun - it- _it's okay_- " The guilt hitting her like a tidal wave, Aoko reached out and took the boy's arms, wrenching them away from his sweat-drenched face. "We... we'll figure it out together. You, me, and Kaito."

"_What_?" the dark-haired boy exclaimed.

"We'll get your memory back together," Aoko repeated firmly, ignoring the look of indignation crossing Kaito's face. Her voice softened. "Hakuba-kun, trust us, okay?"

There was a heavy sigh. Then, slowly, the detective relaxed, his chest rising and falling more slowly now as his breath evened out. Finally, he nodded.

"Good," Aoko said brightly. "Well, I guess the first thing for us to do is to go to school. Maybe you'll be able to remember some things there?" She added hopefully.

"Wait, why am I in this too -" Kaito protested.

"School?" Hakuba looked confused again. "What school?"

"Ekoda High. I was lost on my way there when you showed up and, er, helped me." Aoko smiled encouragingly. She decided to leave out the part where he deduced the direction by dog urine.

"Did I?" Hakuba looked surprised for a moment. Then, his lips curling upward, the look of surprise was instantly replaced to one of self-congratulatory. "But of course, I would never leave a lady in distress."

Aoko blushed.

"'Proclaims the knight in the shining armour,'" Kaito mimicked mockingly. With an irritated scrape of his shoes he bounced back on his feet, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder with a careless _thump_. "I'm going to go now. Feel free to follow when you've finished ogling each other."

"_Kaito _-" Aoko called out.

But Kaito had already turned away. Aoko watched, an unexplained weight weighing the bottom of her stomach the head of familiarly messy hair wondered further and further away.

"Such brute." Hakuba wrinkled his nose.

_Idiot. _Aoko thought, but quickly caught herself. Kaito hadn't done anything wrong. And yet something still nagged at her, gnawing away at the back of her mind. She felt irritated for some reason. And somewhat at a loss. Of what exactly, though, she didn't know.

"Um... Hakuba-kun?"

"Yes?" The detective replied pleasantly. Aoko swallowed.

"Can you please get up now? I can't feel my legs."

---

Alleyway. Shadows. Darkness. Sinister pillar of steam curling from the laundry chute and snaking along the damp, litter-ravaged ground. Garbage bags scattered carelessly along the walls. Further abandon was marked by the graffiti scribbled on the walls. In place of offensive words or extravagantly spray-painted gang names, there was only one single word that was legible amidst the eye-blinding colours: _Darn_ –black-and-white paint long faded to a dingy grey. Elaborated imaginary aside, it was one dodgy alleyway. The type of alleyway that not even a stray cat or dog would care to wonder in, delicious kitchen scraps or not.

And there, leaning against one broken lamppost and mere metres away from an overflowing dumpster, stood a man of impressive height and girth. He was clothed in complete black – black shirt, black pants, black tie, topped off with a black coat and a black hat. He was sweating. The man had worn too many layers. Annoyed, he fished a black handkerchief from his pocket and began dabbing at his moustached face. In his other hand was a cell phone. It was pink. They had run out of the ebony models at the cellular store. Also, the pink models were on sale and came with unlimited texting, Monday to Friday, from 11:00pm to 12:ooam - a deal that was a great bargain at first glance but a completely horrid one upon a closer look. But, ah, the man wasn't just any normal person who read the fine print on unimportant, time-consuming things like contracts. He was much more important than that.

Much, _much_ more important.

The man tapped his foot impatiently. The phone was ringing. With a lurch in his throat, there was a _click _on the other end and a groggy voice came on.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

There was a pause. Crinkling. (As if the person had covered the receiver of the phone to stifle a heavy sigh). Then the voice came back on, "Yes, boss."

"Don't 'yes, boss' me," The man in black snapped impatiently. "Well? I didn't spend all that money on an airplane ticket for you to go sightseeing in Europe. How's our lead on KID?"

"You put me in economy class," the voice on the other side of the line muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing," the voice said hastily. There was a pause; the man in black could hear some paper rustling in the background. The voice came back on. "Um, KID sent a heist note directly to the ICPO today. The detectives had deduced that the heist was probably going to take place in Japan sometime soon. The target's probably the black pearl necklace at the Tokyo Art Gallery. It was donated there by this woman who married 7 times. All 6 of her husbands died from freak accidents."

The man in black wrinkled his nose. "What about the seventh one?"

"Ah, well. The man has been missing for over a year. Fortunately all her other husbands had taken out life insurance. The poor woman can't work, you know. She's so rattled by grief. She's convinced that the necklace is cursed; it's the reason her husband keeps dying off."

"What day is the heist?"

Silence. Then, as if suddenly realizing that shrugs weren't visible over the line, the voice said quickly. "Er, sorry, boss, I don't know."

"You don't _know_ - ? You're surrounded by top police officers and detectives from all over the damn world! What do they say?"

"They don't know, either."

"Well, how the hell are the police going to catch KID if they don't know when he's going to strike?" the man in black snapped impatiently; the tiny pink cell phone creaked ominously as his grip tightened.

"Um, well, apparently the Nakamori Ginzo, that Inspector from Japan – he said that Hakuba Saguru will be able to figure it out."

"_Hakuba Saguru_? Son of a -" Furious, the man kicked the lamp post and let out another string of profanity as white-hot pain shot up from his toes. "Goddamn it. All right, you stay where you are and dig as much information about KID as possible. That damn thief will get us the Pandora, one way or the other. " He kicked off his shoe. His toe was smarting something fierce.

"Boss, I -"

_Click_. The man in black had flipped the phone off. Sighing, he leaned back onto the lamp post. All right – it may not be over yet. No, it couldn't be over. He had put the hit on that meddlesome detective last night. God knows how much his insubordinates slack off. Maybe they hadn't killed Hakuba yet… yes, there was still time. If he called them up now, he would call off the hit. The boy would figure out when the heist would take place. They would stake out at the scene and when the thief showed his face… well, it's all a piece of cake going from there, wasn't it?

Yes, Snake. Nothing is over yet. The man drew in a shuddering breath. He flipped open the phone again. Pandora was his. His brother would be grovelling at his feet when the day comes. He felt the edges of his lip tug upwards. Snake, you smart, brilliant, devious, evil, handsome man.

His thumb flicked over the numbers swiftly. He held the phone to his ear. Waited.

Silence. Nothing.

Frowning, he was about to take the phone from his ear and try again when a smooth, female voice came on,

"I'm sorry. Your call cannot be completed at this time. All services will be down until futher notice. Please try again later..."

"Son of a -"

In the distant, the crows lining up across the telephone lines startled into flight.

---

When they had finally made it to school, Aoko was surprised to see it surrounded by police cars. Even though the siren was turned off, the constant flickering of the blue and red lights had gathered a rather large crowd of onlookers in the street. Every classroom windows had been nudged open, crammed with curious students and occasionally, an agitated teacher yelling feebly for the students to get back to their desks. Most were fighting to peer over the students' heads.

"Hakuba Saguru?" a man in a suit emerged from one the squad cars. Aoko recognized the man as her father's colleagues at the clock-tower heist. He had a forgettable long, pointy face, hair parted at the left. He looked uncertain as he took out his police badge, striding forward to meet the three.

"Yes?" the fair-haired detective stepped forward, sweeping imaginary lint off his uniform.

The man looked relieved at the sight of the boy. "Oh, good, I'm Akira Takeda. We just received a note from KID announcing his latest heist." He gestured toward his car. "Would you mind taking a ride down to the precinct? We have a lot of things to go over."

Aoko could almost see the dials and cogs churning in Hakuba's head. Worried, she stepped forward. "Can I come, too?"

Takeda blinked, a little surprised. "Um, I, er, I suppose. I mean... as long as Inspector Nakamori wouldn't mind."

"He won't," Aoko reassured firmly.

"In that case, can I come?" Kaito stepped forward smoothly. Takeda took out a handkerchief and began to dab his at his brow. He frowned.

"You're -"

"Kuroba Kaito," Kaito introduced smoothly. "I've assisted Inspector Nakamori in the past. He was a capable officer, but when it comes to magic tricks... well." He let his words trail off with a shrug, his lips curving in an apologetic you-know-how-it-is grin.

"Um... well, I don't think Inspector Nakamori would want to have someone so young..."

"Oh, that'll be a shame," Kaito said ruefully. "I had always wanted to help the police catch KID." (Aoko blinked at the sincerity in the boy's voice.)"I supposed all my knowledge of magic would be for null, then... it wasn't as if my magician father had taught me an insider trick or two." He suddenly broke into a cough, the forceful rasps sounding eerily like "Kuroba Toichi."

"You don't mean - " Takeda's eyes widened. "Your father is -"

"_The_ Kuroba Toichi, yes," Kaito grinned, and Aoko could see the pride shining in the boy's eyes. It lit up his whole face.

Takeda looked down at his shoes, one finger tugging at his tie nervously. He seemed to be struggling with the decision. Then, letting out a long, heavy sigh, he looked up and nodded. "Okay," he said. "But Inspector Nakamori can't know about this. He's, ah, very strict when it comes to having outside help on catching KID."

"Oh, don't worry," Kaito grinned. "I'm good at keep secrets.

**A/n: I can't believe it has been a month since I've last updated this story... that, and Hakuba was_ extremely _fun to write. XD Thoughts? Reviews are always welcomed.**


	7. Author's Note: Dear Readers

Dear readers,

It has been a pleasure to write for DC/MK fandom. Kaito and Aoko has been nothing but fun to write - their friendship-turned-relationship is so dynamic it's almost like penning a play. The magician and his confidante take on such a life of their own it was hard not to sit back and just let the words - their _lives _- flow across the pages. I have to thank all the readers who stuck by me and reviewed my story. Even though it might be only a brief afterthought, the reviews were wonderful gestures that gave me support to keep writing and prodded me during my blank periods. Thank you. Really.

With that said, I have to apologize for my unfinished stories. For those for you who might be wondering, I haven't abandoned my stories. I'm still working on them. Unfortunately, I would have to apologize in advance for a further delay on the updates. Due to exams and life in general, I probably won't be get to posting updates until the middle of May.

However, the next chapter of "You're An Idiot, Now Kiss Me" is 80% done. I will probably get to posting it sometime next week. ^^

Happy Reading~

Penguin


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